Supreme Dawn ;

" Jean Valjean had this peculiarity, that he might be said to carry two knapsacks; in one he had the thoughts of a saint, in the other the formidable talents of a convict. He helped himself from one or the other as occasion required. " - Book V, Volume II

[alannasroleplaymemes-moved]

Reblog this if you’re interested in developing and planning epic plots that intertwine our muses’ stories across many threads and further their growth as individuals.

[malfaiteur-bienfaisant]

    Along the Parisian streets, an old man walked, a cane grasped in one hand, only serving to add to his weathered demeanour. He moved along at a brisk pace, rather energetic for his age, and was only slowed down by a slight limp in his gait. He appeared to be a respectable gentleman, of modest clothing but very proper. His silvery hair was well-trimmed and uniform freshly pressed.

    His name was Jean Valjean, but everyone knew him as Monsieur Leblanc. He made a habit of giving alms every weekend, yet that day was different. He was a man on a mission, evident with the urgency in his step. Christmas was drawing nearer each day, and it was by far Valjean’s favourite season to celebrate. No other time of year allowed him to give gifts without anyone refusing, and allowed him to be more generous in his donations.

    The greatest reward, however, was seeing the way that the faces of the beggars and gamins lit up as they received an extra franc or two, or were promised a turkey big enough for their whole family on Christmas day. These were not empty promises, as everyone who knew Monsieur Leblanc were certain that he was completely honest.

    With each person he passed, a coin or two was placed within each outstretched palm. Nearly every contact of coin with hand was announced with a “Merci,” or “Joyeux Noël.” This brought a smile to Valjean’s face, even as he ended his weekly trip.

    As always, the man stopped in a café afterwards, called the Musain. He enjoyed the gentle chatter that always seemed to hang about the room, as smoke from cigars hung around other cafés. As he sat at a table, drinking his coffee, he noted that it was oddly quiet that day. He turned to a stranger sitting alone at the table beside him and asked, “Is there something going on today?”

[malfaiteur-bienfaisant]

    Hatred twisted the heart in the same way relentless, frigid wind wilted and eventually withered the rose. Angry and ceaseless, it stopped at nothing until it ensured that any life that once was, was no more. Valjean was that rose — in Faverolles he was kind and courteous, thorny when provoked — but Toulon; that was the wind — the bitter, cruel, howling wind that whipped up from the shore of the Mediterranean sea. For nineteen years he had been battered by nothing but the merciless lashes, glares from guards, and the ever-prevalent threats of what happened to the weak men in the Bagne.

    Yet, despite this, was it still possible for the rose to flourish once more? Weather by the gentle hand of the florist, or that of God? Upon encountering the Bishop in the little mountaintop town of Digne, it had sent Valjean into many weeks of heavy pondering. As he travelled, the stolen silver on his back heavier than he knew it was, a great change had taken place within him. It was no miracle, it seemed, by any stretch — left and right, he was refused from inns, even brothels. No place wanted a convict staying amongst good citizens.

    As Valjean walked from Digne to Pontarlier — not a short distance, by any means — night began to fall. When it was dark in the mountainous region of France, the goings were treacherous. One could easily slip and fall to one’s death. Though, it was not as though that wouldn’t have been preferable to the man. However, he had a commitment to honour, and dying was not part of it. Luckily, he was greeted by a small house on the side of the road, illuminated with a few lights at the windows. Hoping the darkness would work in his favour to obscure his grotesque features, he went up to the door and knocked.

    “ A room for the night? ” Valjean asked in his gravelly voice, roughened by the salt water and hard labour. “ I have money I can pay, m'sieur. Just one night is all I ask, or else I’ll die out ‘ere. ” Upon hearing no answer, the haggard man knocked again, with more volume, the anger and hatred for humanity building up inside him once more.

[malfaiteur-bienfaisant]

    Valjean stood on the side of the road, frozen in fear as the familiar sound of the chain gang met his ears. He closed he eyes so that he didn’t have to see, but he couldn’t stop himself from hearing the rattling of the heavy chains, the way their breath came in laboured grunts. But why was he so frightened? A crowd had gathered to mock and jeer; he was protected by the masses. He was well-dressed now, impossibe to distinguish as the galley-slave that he had once been. Nonetheless, unpleasant memories came rushing back from a time that he had once thought long-gone.

    Finally, the man regained his senses, and he attempted to head back to where he was staying in the Rue Plumet. However, he stumbled, and nearly crashed into another figure who was standing there, watching the spectacle. “ I’m so sorry — ” He attempted to explain, “ I did not see you standing there… forgive me. ”

[malfaiteur-bienfaisant]

{ Me: *leaves for a year*

Me: Oh maybe I’ll reply to some of those drafts

Everyone: *deactivated*

Me: *stares into the camera like I’m on the Office* }

[socalcostumes]

When I saw Simon as Valjean he had this wonderful moment I have never seen any other Valjean do before. After the dust settles at the end of the final battle he rushed over to Marius’ body saying “no… no no no!” and when he got to him and check his pules Rob groaned and he...

[grishildr-deactivated20161024]

                                                     for in much WISDOM is much grief                                           & she that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow

[sternbilder]

les mis characters + latin mottos → jean valjean

"…I bequeath to [Cosette] the two candlesticks which stand on the chimney-piece. They are of silver, but to me they are gold, they are diamonds; they change candles which are placed in them into wax-tapers. I do not know whether the person who gave them to me is pleased with me yonder on high. I have done what I could.”

(V.IX.v.)

[bluexocet]

From Viz’s Phantom Blood release, pg.80

[jojnews]

@katdowling Celebrating St David’s Day listening to @johnowenjones in Cardiff. Dydd Gwyl Dewi Hapus! #DyddGwylDewi #StDavidsDay

[muirin007]

Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.

Mary Elizabeth Frye (via muirin007)

[malfaiteur-bienfaisant]

{ YVAN DAUTIN LOOKS SO CREEPY }

[malfaiteur-bienfaisant]

"A donation, M'sieur?" a child's voice called. The scrawny teenaged boy the voice belonged to was shivering so horribly he could barely hold the ratty adult-sized coat around his shoulders.

         “ Why, of course, my child. ” Without hesitation,      the  mayor  dug  into  his  pocket  and pulled out a     shining coin, placing it into his hand. “ Find a place     to stay tonight, where it's warm. ”  He paused for a      moment, then gave the  boy  another  coin.  “ And     buy yourself something nice to eat. ”

[anabioun]

7

The Being glanced nervously around him and attempted,  almost  subconsciously,  to hunch down, in order to make himself  appear a little smaller. 

      “They are staring.”

[malfaiteur-bienfaisant]

         With a kind expression, hand still outstretched,      Valjean  gave a sympathetic smile. “ I know. But      you shall  get  used  to it — I promise you. Come      with me. ”  The ex-convict knew all too well what      it was like  to be little more than a monstrosity to      gawk at.

           “ You will be safe now. ”

[jojnews]

[malfaiteur-bienfaisant]

{ arztfrankenstein } :

                       ( malfaiteur-bienfaisant )

❛ Are you even listening to yourself?

    That idea will never work, you need to      plan it out better if you want to get anywhere      with it; even then it may need more work. ❜

❛ Of course it will work ! ❜

    The mayor replied with an exaggerated sigh. ❛ It is far too expensive to make these beads from shellac — no, they must be made from a special resin that I require you to develop. And no one will know the difference! ❜ Madeleine didn’t even bother trying to explain his idea for cheaper bracelet clasps to this impossible man.

[a-ferocious-honesty-archive-dea]

"Don't tempt me." { because another thread is just what we need ahahah }

“Or what?”

      The response came quick as a whip & delivered in a low growl.      Public space. Javert didn’t want a s c e n e. What he did want      was an end to this farce. “Or what, tough guy?”

[malfaiteur-bienfaisant]

          It took all the strength that Valjean had within him not       to flinch back at the Inspector's sharp words. He mirrored       the snarl,  knowing  that  he  was  stepping  far out of his       boundaries. “ Or I will fight you right here,  right  now, in       front of my daughter. ” The convict growled  and stepped       forward, and replied in a low, eerily s w e e t  tone, “ And       we wouldn't want to do t h a t, would we? ”